Watching the Sky
by Bianca Bubbles
Summary: Shera reflects on her first day as a Tauros rancher on the vanishing Kanto prairie. OC One-shot


This is just a little one-shot set in the world of Pokemon. I hope you enjoy it.

Pokemon will never be mine... sadly. I'm just borrowing the world for a little bit.

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><p>It was true; the sky was wider in the open frontier. No barns or ranch buildings could block the view of the beautiful twinkling beings hanging above. There was only the grass, the smoke of the campfire and the brown frontier dust. That night sky was the deepest, darkest blue I could ever imagine, and its width made me feel truly small.<p>

The Kanto prairie was shrinking; the wild herds of Tauros written about by world-famed scientists in their youth were almost gone. By my father's reckoning, there was only a 10 mile wide circle of frontier with empty skies. The skies outside its radius had the low buildings of Fuchsia or the Tower of Lavender town to block out the beautiful stars.

My family, the Lentos and our neighbors the Pias were the only Tauros ranching families left in the whole continent. Even so, the Pias family were having financial issues that threatened their longevity.

For comfort, I reached my hand up to bury my fingers in George's feathery underside. Loose down feathers collected in the spaces between my fingers. He was shedding his winter coat.

"Are you asleep already?"

A wide head and long beak came out from underneath a hidden nub of a wing and came around to nudge my ear.

"Oh, guess not..." I laughed, his beak tickling my bare neck. Reaching my hand up to the crest of his head, I got him to stop his teasing.

I sighed, staring at the sky's reflection floating in George's eyes.

"Doduo!" George's other head begged for my attention. I smiled, running my fingers down his neck with a careful touch. Satisfied, he bent to scrape his beak against the light brown dirt.

My pigtails flipped as I looked over to the campfire. Just an hour before, the fire's light had been blocked by the muscular shoulders of my older brothers, cousins, and uncles hunched over cans of beans and the injured leg of a young Ponyta.

George began picking at my hair as he had a habit of doing, gently grasping thin strands and twisting them into knots.

I pushed at his chest. "George, stop!"

"Doduo!" both heads protested at once, shifting their wide feet in irritation.

I jumped to my feet, "I'm sorry, sorry... calm down."

Now standing firmly in my worn boots, I could see George eye to eye. He was barely my short height of 5 feet 4 inches and wasn't as intimidating as Father's Dodrio or even Richie's Rapidash. George was still a brown fluff-ball on stilts.

I hugged both heads to my chest, their beaks resting over my shoulders like a pair of thick, bony wings.

"Do you think we did okay today?" I whispered.

George did nothing but coo and click in a undecipherable way.

"For my first day on the trail, I think I did pretty well."

"Duo."

My features collected together at the center of my face. "Oh come on, I'm sure everyone had trouble with a couple Taruos on their first day."

"Doduo."

"We got them back...eventually."

"Doduo!"

I released George's heads. "Now that wasn't my fault," I complained, though I knew it was a lie.

George nudged my cheek and I swung my head towards camp. My father was approaching us. His wide shoulders blocked the light of the campfire; his fiery red hair stuck out in every direction. Face stern and weathered by the sun, I took a subconscious shuffle-step backward.

"Shera."

I chewed the inside of my lip. "Yeah?"

"George." My father nodded a quick hello to the two headed bird.

He placed his rough hand on my shoulder. "Can we talk for a bit?"

I swallowed dryly. "Sure, yeah, of course."

We sat down side by side in the brown frontier dust. George stood beside me, skinny tan legs rising like a pair of saplings.

"Sooo..." My voice faded into the wind.

"Rough day today huh." He stared intently at his hands, rubbing the calluses on his palm with his fingers.

My brain clamored for an excuse, but I couldn't find one. "Yeah."

"What do you think you should have done differently?" he questioned.

I sighed, covering my darting eyes with my fingers, "I...I wasn't paying attention."

"Ranching takes a keen eye and patient spirit," my father recited, leaning back on his knuckles.

I revealed my cheeks to the cold air. "I let the only two Tauros I was in charge with wander off, how can you keep track of all two hundred!" I swung my head to watch him chuckle, belt studded with pokeballs bobbing with regular jerks.

"Concentration...Compassion...Practice," he instructed, studying the distant mountains.

I flipped the words over in my mind, wide nebulous concepts, "But, how?"

My father hummed with thought, returning his hands to his knees, "Remember when you taught George drill peck?"

I nodded vigorously. "It took me ages!" George cooed beside me, as if pondering the hours.

"And you never got distracted."

"It was really tough," I asserted, "But it was worth it." I held George's ankle and rubbed the rough flesh.

"And your first battle?"

My face fell at the memory. George shivered, swung his heads out of sight.

"You cared for George's injuries like the best nurse," he reminded me.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." George nudged me affectionately with the tip of his beak.

My father pulled himself to his feet, still a spry man at his middling age. He extended a hand for mine and guided me upwards. His two sturdy hands on my shoulders, he spoke into my eyes. "With practice, you will treat every Tauros and any other pokemon with same concentration and compassion you do for George. I'll just take a few years."

I beamed. "Thanks Dad," I swung my arms around his waist and held him tight. Squawking in protest, George pushed one of his heads between us. My nose wrinkled with the touch of his fluffy feathers.

"Alright, calm down you big lump..." I pulled away from my father and wrapped my arms around of George, "I love you too."

"It's getting late kid," my dad motioned to camp.

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

"It would be nice you'd offer a few words to Butch," he advised, "Since his ponyta did get injured in the shuffle."

I murmured a response, pressing my forehead into George's side. The falls of my father's boots faded into the crackling of the firewood as it crumbled into embers. I stared back at the stars, heard the faint hum of flocks of zubat in distant mountain caves.

I stroked George's heads with either hand. "Tomorrow, then." I whispered. George trilled in agreement.


End file.
